


Shining Armor

by Piinutbutter



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 05:10:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20961026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piinutbutter/pseuds/Piinutbutter
Summary: Nothing ever goes as planned in Mary's life.





	Shining Armor

Damned northern cities. 

Mary disliked small towns in the first place. He couldn’t hide on the outskirts or blend into the crowd like he could in busier locales. Hence why ‘Doctor Mary’ had made himself known to the locals of this tiny, wretched, _freezing cold_ town.

Mary hadn’t known it was possible to feel so cold.

There had been no time to grab a blanket or further layers of clothing while he was fleeing from Pretzel’s knife-loving little friend. Nor was it safe to seek shelter from the locals anymore. They had been friendly and flirty in equal measure to Mary when he arrived, but no doubt the church rats would have spread the word about his true nature by now. Word traveled fast when it didn’t have far to go.

So here he wandered, through a snow-drenched forest, with nothing more than a thin coat and his dwindling soul power to protect him from the icy winds. He had no idea how close the next town was. Had to be a night’s travel, at least. Prolonged exposure to temperatures this low would kill a human, Mary knew that. Could it do the same to a food soul? Wouldn’t it be poetic, if the same malady that had plagued Mary since his summoning was the thing that finally killed him? If it accomplished what self-righteous priests, jealous lovers, and angry villagers couldn’t?

Mary’s fingers had grown stiff, locked around the handle of his lantern. The wilting blue flame fluttering inside its glass wasn’t for light. Mary could see fine in the dark. But the flame was imbued with magic, and clutching it tightly against his chest was the only thing keeping Mary putting one foot in front of the other.

As another harsh gust of wind hit Mary’s face, he thought back to the warmth of his master’s castle. The warmth and the light and the laughter that came with a constant, thriving flow of humans. Humans whom Mary was free - rather, encouraged - to embrace, with all the momentary heat that entailed.

No human would ever be as good as the man Mary truly wanted, but he’d take anything at the moment. 

Mary didn’t know when he’d stopped moving. One moment he was walking, bracing himself against the night chill. The next, he was huddling at the foot of a tree, utterly convinced that he couldn’t take a single step further. Shoulders shaking, he called for his iron maiden to carry him, but he was too weak for even that.

He was in trouble.

Mary pressed himself against the tree and burrowed deeper into his coat. Of course his new companion was nowhere to be seen. It was a long shot to hope that Black Pudding saw him as anything other than a convenient tool - Mary knew his own line of work too well. But still. Maybe she could have sat here with him and shared his coat, and Mary could have had _some_ warmth. Any warmth.

Mary couldn’t feel most of his body.

Mary wondered what happened to a food soul’s vessel when it died.

Mary closed his eyes.

Mary was warm.

Mary opened his eyes.

He saw the vast black sky above him, dotted with flurries of white. The numbness in his limbs slowly faded, allowing him to feel the jostling as he was moved. Someone was carrying him in their arms.

Someone very, very warm.

Mary didn’t believe it.

“What are you doing here?” Mary gasped through chattering teeth, burying his face into a solid chest that felt searing hot against his frozen skin.

“Don’t talk,” a low, rumbling voice said. “Save your energy.”

“M’kay.” Mary nuzzled into heated skin and let himself drift off again.

When he woke, it was in a bed. His chill-soaked clothes were gone, and the thick blankets tucked around his body were saturated with a smell Mary could never forget. Hearty and mouthwatering, just like the man it belonged to.

And Mary was _warm._ Warmer than he’d ever felt before. Bathing in fresh blood didn’t hold a candle to the glow that spread through his limbs now, calming the chill that Mary had come to accept as part of his life. 

Mary tried to blink away the blurriness from his vision until he realized he was crying. 

“You came for me,” Mary said, knowing who was in the room with him without having to look. “I thought you hated me.”

He heard a series of floorboard creaks. Then a figure was standing by his bedside, vivid in red. Unable to stop himself, Mary reached out, grasping and tugging, anything to stop Steak from leaving. Now that he finally knew what happiness felt like, Mary couldn’t handle the thought of it being taken away.

“I’m here,” Steak assured him, sitting on the bed. Mary immediately moved closer, resting his head on the knight’s lap. 

Mary had never given much stock to Pretzel’s talk of god and angels and hell. But maybe heaven did exist after all.

“I missed you,” Mary muttered, content in his delirium to accept Steak’s lack of an explanation as to where he’d come from or why he wasn’t currently trying to kill or imprison Mary. 

“I know,” Steak said, stroking Mary’s soft, windblown hair. “But I’m here now.”

A blazing hot palm brushed across Mary’s forehead.

“You’re still cold.”

Mary shook his head and hummed in disagreement. “Not anymore. Not with you.”

“All the same - drink?”

Mary’s whole body tensed with surprise when the smell of Steak’s blood went from something comfortingly distant to a bitter, heady presence right under his nose. Mary blinked. The knight had made a cut on his wrist, and was offering it to him.

“A gentleman to a fault,” Mary said, and placed a kiss over the wound.

It wouldn’t do to appear ungrateful, so Mary took a drink.

Then another.

And he didn’t stop.

Too late, Mary realized that he’d never fed on someone without draining them dry. It was all in the routine for him. Seduction. Intimacy. Bite. Warmth. Death.

Mary didn’t want to do that to Steak. He never had. He wanted to savor the man, to spend the rest of his life with him and bask in his warmth every day and night. But the moment a mouthful of Steak’s lifeblood hit his mouth, there was no going back.

Bloody Mary devoured him. There was no pleasant way to put it. Mary bit and tore and chewed and drank and ate. It was so good. The greatest feast Mary had eaten in his life. The elaborate banquets at his master’s dining hall had nothing on Steak’s flesh and blood. It was only when Steak’s heart stopped pounding in Mary’s hand and the blood went cold on Mary’s tongue that he realized what he’d done.

Mary went cold. Cold, cold, colder than he’d ever had. Cold enough that he might as well curl up and die on the spot, which-

\- which he was doing.

Mary opened his eyes.

There was no blood. No Steak. He was still in the damned forest, freezing, slipping into unconsciousness and the dreams that came with it to preserve his energy.

Mustering all his strength, Mary stood up. He couldn’t give up and waste away here. Not before he made that warmth he’d dreamed of a reality.

**Author's Note:**

> It's October again and FF has rolled out another Bloody Mary event. Last one, I wrote [Steak having a nightmare about everyone's favorite fashionable vampire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16418423). Figured I'd even the score this year. :D


End file.
